Spark and Burn
by Linwe Saralonde
Summary: This story takes place after the end of Buffy and Angel. It begins right after the battle that we see start in the last episode of Angel. Spike goes to Italy to chase after Buffy who has moved on.
1. Loss

"Spike." A cold, archaic voice awoke him with a commanding tone. Spike opened his eyes. All he could see was a blue blur.

Blinking, he asked, "Illyria?"

"Yes. It's me." Finally, his eyes began to focus and he saw the unmoving goddess kneeling beside him. She looked concerned. Had he been himself, he would have made a joke about it, but he knew it wasn't the right time. He sat up and looked around him. Thousands of corpses covered the alleyway in which the battle had occurred.

"Oh. My. God," he sighed.

"There were more. They've been slowly disappearing. You'll find this if you watch a few moments longer." Illyria pointed a blue hand ahead of them. A few moments later, there was a small popping sound, and a decapitated corpse evaporated into thin air, its misplaced head a second or two later.

"Well, pop goes the bloody weasel." Spike gingerly got to his feet. The bodies seemed to go on for miles.

"That's why I never rely on magic," Illyria sneered.

"Remember, though, that's what brought you back. The both of us." Illyria looked slightly annoyed. "Well, where is everybody?"

"Dead," she simply stated. Spike felt his stomach drop to the bloodstained ground. Whether or not he knew it, he had come to care about these people. Even Angel had started to be less annoying. Illyria took a few steps to his right to reveal the body of Charles Gunn. Spike felt sick. Gunn had a broadsword that went all the way through his stomach. Spike recoiled at the dead eyes staring at him. He rolled his eyes, took a deep breath, then like a band-aid, pulled the sword from his back in one swift move, and threw the sword aside with disgust.

"Cowards didn't even face him to do it." He reached a shaking hand out towards Gunn's cold face and carefully closed his eyes. He cleared his throat, preparing himself for the next blow. "Where's Angel?"

"Missing. I couldn't find a body, but he has to be gone. The only reason you're still alive is because when you were knocked unconscious, the fools assumed you were dead." Illyria had a look on her face that unsettled Spike. "He could be alive and on the run. But it's more likely that they ate him or staked him and we've yet to find the bones or dust."

"Well, have you _looked_?" Spike asked.

"Of course I looked! Don't belittle me, Vampire!" She had her hand at his throat so fast he didn't even see it move. "I'm in no mood." She held it there a while longer. Spike felt as though she was going to make his head pop off with one hand. He saw a tear in her eye. She let go and turned away as he rubbed the painful ring around his neck in confusion. Then, comprehension dawned. Illyria had not yet had the chance to grieve for the loss of Wesley. She had channeled all emotion into the battle, and now it was coming to the surface.

"Listen, pet. Wesley, he's…." He sighed. What words could _he_ say to comfort a demon that wouldn't ever admit she needed comforting in the first place? "I'm sorry," he finished lamely. Illyria faced him.

"Don't call me pet." Spike smiled. He knew she was back to normal—for the time being.

"Aye, aye, Sir." Illyria narrowed her eyes. Spike moved once again to the lifeless body of Gunn. He put his arms under Gunn's armpits and began to try and lift him.

"What are you doing?" Illyria looked alarmed.

"Don't you think we should bury him? Oh, God. Talk about dead weight."

"Stupid, weak vampire," Illyria said as she walked over and slung Gunn over her shoulder.

"Or we could do it that way," he said dumbly.

As they laid the body into the makeshift grave, Spike felt an overwhelming sense of everything that had happened. This had truly been a battle for the ages and Spike and Illyria would be the only ones to remember it. Everyone else around them would continue to live their normal lives, but they knew nothing would ever be the same again.

"Poor Charles," Illyria sighed before heaving a pile of dirt into the earthen tomb.

"Goodbye, mate." Spike began helping her and soon it was done. Spike felt exhausted, but Illyria looked as though she hadn't exerted any energy. He took a moment to catch his breath, then yelled, "Angel!"

"What are you doing?" Illyria asked sharply.

"Yodeling. What does it look like I'm doing? I'm looking for Angel. He might still be alive, you know."

"Why does it matter to you? It seems as though it would be easier for you if Angel was dead." She cocked her head to the side inquisitively.

"Well, yeah, but it's not simple. Just because I don't really like him doesn't mean I want him dead. Well, sometimes I do." Spike shook his head. "But that's not the point. Buffy wouldn't want it."

"A vampire with a soul who loves the Slayer. Hmm…I believe I recall that story from somewhere before." She smiled cynically.

"Hey! I loved her _before _I had a soul! Angel didn't even want his bleeding soul! I sought mine out!" Spike was screaming now. Illyria began to laugh at him.

"Oh, sod off." He began to walk slowly through the alleyway. There was a significantly smaller amount of bodies lying before them. _Good. Now it's just the matter of finding a needle a pile of hay,_ he thought to himself. Though many of the dead were now gone, there were still such an enormous amount, Spike was tired just from thinking about trying to figure out if any of them were Angel. He heaved a heavy sigh.

"Come on, Blue. Nighttime's burnin'." Illyria joined Spike and they began to carefully examine each body and the area around them. It was grueling work and Spike began feeling very tired. Even Illyria looked slightly fatigued. _For Buffy._ These two words kept him going.

"Spike. I think he's gone." Illyria's voice was gentle, if that was possible. Spike knew she was right. He stood up.

"Oh, bollocks. Sun's about to rise." He turned to the large building of Wolfram & Hart behind him. It was still standing, but much of it was destroyed during the battle. Spike could feel the sun as it began to creep out from the moon's shadow. He ran as fast as he could towards the only possible shelter now: Hell, Inc. Spike's skin was beginning to sizzle. He ran even faster now. He pulled his coat over his head, the sun now blazing above him. Finally, he reached the building. He panted heavily as he put out the tiny flames on his pant legs. He sat down and tried to catch his breath—or lack thereof. Much to his surprise, Winifred Burkle stood before him.

"Hey, Spike. You okay?" She smiled sweetly. Spike squinted at her. "You think I can go into public unnoticed now?" She morphed into Illyria. Spike exhaled sharply. He had forgotten about that little trick of hers.

"What are you talkin' about?" Spike's head felt like it was stuffed with cotton. Perhaps it was the concussion, or the fact that he hadn't slept in over forty-eight hours. But most likely, it was that he didn't know what to do. He had nothing left except a few pieces of rubble. Unless…

"Do you think there's still anything of value in here?" Spike asked. Illyria said nothing, but helped him to his feet and they began to assess what was left of Wolfram & Hart. Spike worked absent-mindedly. All he could think about was Buffy. She needed to know about Angel, and Spike himself, he supposed. But how? After much thought, he realized—

"I need to go see Buffy." Illyria looked up. "Illyria, I don't know what you're going to do next, but I'm going to Italy. It'd be nice to have you, for company, and all that, but you don't have to go if you don't want to." Spike figured that being his friend was the last possible thought to ever cross Illyria's mind.

"I'll go with you, Spike. You're the only thing left that connects me to this world. I wouldn't be able to survive without you. I know little about this age." She cocked her head to the side, as she was wonton to do.

"Well, then. We need to find a way to get out of here as soon as possible." Spike began to search again with a fervent hope. A few moments later, Illryia's voice distracted him.

"Will this be enough funds for our needs?" She stood before an enormous, open vault that was completely filled with cash. Spike gulped.

"Yeah," his voice squeaked. "That'll do."


	2. Love

"But, Buffy!" Dawn's voice cried through the earpiece.

"Dawn, just do it. Please." There was a pause.

"Fine. But, I won't forget this."

"Thank you, Dawn. Love you." Buffy hung up the phone and sighed. She stood up and looked out her hotel window upon the quiet streets of Prato. A few miles away, or kilometers she supposed, was the hustling, bustling and beautiful city of Florence, Italy. If she squinted hard enough, maybe she could see the Fountain of Neptune, her favorite piece of architecture there.

"Nah, didn't work," she said to herself.

"What didn't work?" She turned around. There stood a tall, dark, and muscular man.

"Huh? Oh. Uh, nothing." He stepped forward.

"Buffy, are you okay? You look upset. Did something happen?" He reached a hand out towards her, then pulled away, his skin singed slightly from the sun. Buffy looked at the sunlight peeking through the curtains. She reached up and closed them, then grabbed the man's hand.

"I'm fine. Just feel a little wierd, that's all." He pulled her closer to him, then kissed her on the forehead.

"Listen, it's just a few hours more until the sun goes down, then we can go get some gelato. Hmm?"

"Mmmm... No problems that an incredible amount of sugar can't solve." She kissed him, and he left Buffy to her thoughts. Why _did_ she feel so strange? Had she eaten something bad? After a while, she shrugged away the thought and began to let herself relax. She was on vacation right now. In Italy. Things were going wonderfully with Sangue, though she didn't know what her problem was with having only vampire boyfriends. _Must be that whole forbidden fruit thing_, she thought to herself. But in her defense, she picked _hott_ vampire boyfriends. At least, that's what Willow told her. Though, whether or not Willow was the best for advice on the subject, she wasn't sure.

She didn't know what it was about Sangue that made her trust him so easily. She hadn't really felt this way about someone since...

"Spike." She hadn't said his name in a long time, and had been trying not to think about him. The loss for him was as great as the abyss that was now Sunnydale. But since escaping to Italy, that hole had become smaller and smaller. She was only alone there for about three months before everyone else followed. She wasn't upset, though. She knew they all needed each other and to be close to one another to function. But, she was still on vacation from being the Slayer. After all, she wasn't the only one now. She was able to take a break without some apocalypse occuring. Or if one did, there were plenty of back-up Buffys who were being trained, much to their enthusiasm she was sure, by Giles.

Buffy threw her head back and laughed a little. Giles was in his element; boring teenage girls to death was right up his alley. And poor Dawn, his assistant. But Buffy had a feeling Dawn didn't hate it as much as she said she did. Dawn always had to complain when it came to something Buffy wanted her to do. But, she hadn't as much lately. Buffy thought maybe Dawn was starting to come into her own a bit more. Xander definitely agreed. Every time Buffy talked to him, he praised how beautiful, smart, and mature Dawn was becoming. It was as though she was _his _little sister. But Buffy didn't mind, and she knew Dawn certainly didn't. That little crush on Xander still hadn't quite faded.

As for Willow, Buffy wasn't positive on her situation. She was extremely happy with her schooling right now, considering she was a graduate student and also taught two classes a week. Every time they talked, Buffy pretended to know what she was talking about and was, honestly, pretty bored. Alas, whatever made Willow happy, made Buffy happy. Something that confused her, though, was Willow's feelings about Kennedy, if there were any. Willow didn't really need Kennedy since the "Slayer Spell." Sadly enough, though, Kennedy still needed Willow. Buffy hadn't pressed her about it yet, and Willow hadn't said anything, so she decided to leave it alone for the time being.

Buffy loved being on holiday, but it was still hard for her to actually relax at times. She met Sangue shortly before her friends and family had arrived in Florence, where she currently lived in small studio-style apartment. Though, not exactly on accident, she still hadn't introduced him to anyone, they all seemed to approve of the idea of him. That's how she was able to escape with him on these mini-holidays. They never went too far away in case there was an emergency, but Buffy thouroughly enjoyed and needed the occassional weekend getaways. Sangue accompanying her and paying her way--though she wasn't sure how a vampire like himself had so much money anyway (he always just said "business.")--was an added bonus.

"You ready?" Sangue stood before her in a chocolate brown turtleneck and grey slacks with expensive Italian shoes, though, they were just expensive shoes in general, on second thought, looking powerful with the dark colors of his clothing accenting his green eyes. Buffy, though she knew perfectly well just how handsome her beau was, was still a little taken aback by his presence that evening, but in a good way.

"Duh...yeah." Buffy felt a little lame in comparison. She looked down at her flowing pink silk skirt and sheer white camisole with her wedges in embarrassment.

"Buffy. You look beautiful." He touched her cheek. She looked up at him and slowly smiled.

"I'm ready."

Her current feeling of inadequacy was not an uncommon one. It was not Sangue's actions that brought this feeling about. No, it was nothing he did on purpose, but his mere appearance, countenance, and..._power_. Buffy pushed the thoughts aside. If she focused on it for too long, it woud make her gelato taste bad.

She slipped her hand though the crook of his arm and smiled up at him. He bent down and kissed the top of her head.

"Any better?" he asked softly.

"Much." He smiled, revealing two rows of straight and beautiful white teeth (and two somewhat pointy canines), his eyes shining.

"Then let us ago!" He jogged ahead to get the door for her. He always did this, and Buffy had yet to be tired of it.

"Grazie!" She curtseyed after exiting their hotel room. He smiled broadly and they began to walk towards the front door of the hotel.

"So what word will you teach me today?" she asked curiously. He had been teaching her little Italian phrases and words every day for about six weeks now. She had a hard time remembering all of them, not to mention how to say them, but her vocabulary had now expanded from the two words she had known before (_ciao_ and _bella_, though she didn't know what the latter meant until Sangue told her).

He stroked his chin. "Hmm..._Ti amo_."

She repeated it thoughtfully. "What does it mean?"

"I love you." Buffy stopped dead in her tracks. Her heart was beating so loud and so fast she was sure he could hear. Her mouth dropped open. This was new information. _Scary_ infromation.

"Buffy, cara mia, are you allright? You do not look well." Suddenly, Sangue looked like Buffy felt, except the whole beating heart part. His naturally tan skin paled and he began stammering nervously.

"Did I say something wrong? Perhaps I should...leave you alone." He paused, then decisively turned away. Buffy's mouth had gone dry as she stood there and gaped at the man walking away from her--who loved her, apparently. Where was he going? What if he wasn't going to come back? She couldn't lose him.

"Sangue, wait!" she cried. He stopped walking, but didn't move towards her, or even face her. Buffy swallowed and ran towards him. She touched his arm and she was shocked to see how sad his eyes were. She took a deep breath before saying, "_Ti amo_...too." Sangue chuckled. Then he swept her up into his arms and spun her around in the air.

"Good!" he laughed. "Now the gelato will taste better!" After Sangue set Buffy down, she swayed a little. She felt somewhat lightheaded and dizzy, and it wasn't because her six-foot-four vampire boyfriend had just twirled her in the air. Well, he had _something_ to do with it. She couldn't believe how well things were going for her since she moved to Italy and met Sangue. In any other relationship, she would fear that it was going too fast. But for some reason, she felt completely and totally secure with him. It was the safest she had felt since Spike died, though she didn't consciously know this.

"Come, darling. The sugar rush is on our left." He grabbed her arm with a gentle, yet firm grip and guided her towards their destination. He put a protective arm around her as they walked. Buffy didn't feel like passing out anymore, so much as floating. In short, she was elated.

"Do you know what today is?" Sangue inquired.

"Uh...Friday." They still had one more day before she had to return to Slayer Central and he to...whatever he did during the day.

"Well, yes, but there's something else."

"Is it your birthday or something? I didn't think we did birthdays! I mean there's only so many candles that can fit on one cake!" She began to get nervous.

"No, no, no, no." _He seems amused. That's good_, Buffy thought.

"What is today's _date_?" he tried again.

"February 14th. Wha--oh... Do they celebrate that over here?" She felt like an idiot.

"Anniversaries? Of course." Sangue eyed her bemusedly.

"_Anniversary_? What are you talking about? I meant Valentine--oh." _"Oh"_ seemed to be a common phrase for Buffy these days.

"Buffy," he said shortly. Sangue let go of her and stopped walking. "We met on this day five months ago. Don't you remember?" She looked up at him. He met her gaze steadily, sternly, and...in disappointment.

"Of course I remember! How could I forget? It's just the date that slipped my mind. I've never been good with dates." She wrung her hands and anxiously awaited his response. He studied her closely for a few moments.

"Well...I am." He reached into his pocket and produced a small box.

"Ooh! Do I get a present?" Buffy reached out for the carefully wrapped square box.

"Go ahead." She took it and tore apart the red paper. She slowly lifted the lid. Amidst a layer of red silk lay a small, silver heart on a small, silver chain. She picked it up and examined it closely. Engraved in a simple script on the front of the heart were the words:

_October 14th, cara mia. --Sangue_

Buffy jumped in the air and threw her arms around Sangue's neck, almost knocking him over, and producing an _"Ooph!"_ from the vamp.

"You almost took me down!" he laughed as he squeezed her.

"_Ti amo, ti amo, ti amo!" _ Buffy felt tears trying to creep out of her eyes, but she kept them at bay.

"Anything for you," he whispered softly. After a while, Buffy let go and kissed him straight on the mouth in public, something she wasn't usually keen on doing.

"When in Rome," she said simply at the sight of his raised eyebrows. "Or Prato, for that matter." She looked around them as they once again ventured for the ice treat. There were fewer businesses opened and less people in the streets as the night progressed. "At this rate, we'll never make it to the gelato in time."

"No. We will make it," Sangue promised. "I know a shortcut." Suddenly, they turned right and walked through a small alleyway before coming out on the street where the gelato vendor sat.

"That's impressive!" Buffy smiled to herself as Sangue began to order their hard-earned treats. After all the stress of the eveing, she deserved it, she thought. And sharing it with her new...whatever he was, well, that wasn't too bad either.

A/N: If for some reason I have some "die hard" fans who are curious about Buffy's boyfriend's name, just wait and see. It does have some siginificance. If you want to find out for yourself, please don't spoil it for anyone else! E-mail me first. Thanks!

unimaginativename: I'm glad you like it! There are many more twists and turns down the road, so keep reading!

Small Blue Thing: Third chapter is already in progress!

Max: Don't worry. I, too, hate the puppy dog Spike. To me, it's annoying when any character in any fanfic in general is not true to their character. I'm trying really hard to keep these characters' dialogue, thoughts, and actions true to themselves. Hopefully, it will work!

funkydevil206: Thanks! I'm going to try and update quickly so no one is left in suspense. Though, I'm not sure that I'm that good of a writer to do that.


	3. Dream

Spike couldn't believe his luck. After all that had happened, something had finally gone his way.

"Illyria, pet, do you realize what we can _do_ now?"

Illyria's cold gaze bore into him. "Of course I realize! I'm no imbecile."

Spike twiddled his thumbs in anticipation and stared at the money. "Let's just think for a minute." He could hardly contain his excitement. He was one step closer to finding Buffy. There were still a thousand more, but he was at least progressing.

"Ha! A hard task for you!" Illyria barked. Spike rolled his eyes and tried to calm down and think rationally.

After a moment, he said, "I don't know about you, but I need some sleep. So, let's take a rest until sunset. Then, I'll take you out and show you some places you'll need to be able to get to so we can get out of this blasted city. And I'm afraid you'lre gonna have to start imitating Fred more often for this to work." Suddenly, Illyria did just that.

"I don't imitate her, ya silly goose! I _am_ her!" said the sweet and chirpy voice of Fred.

"No. You're not her. You never will be, blue. Let's get that clear." Illyria's blatant disregard for how she had taken Fred's life disturbed and angered Spike. He knew Wesley wouldn't want it. Neither would Gunn or Angel.

Fred's lips pouted, then turned into a smug smile as she morphed back into Illyria.

"Found a weakness, did I?"

Spike spotted a decrepit couch on the other side of the room that was out of the sunlight. He walked over to it and lied down. Relief spread through his body. He closed his eyes and laid his coat on top of his body, like a blanket, and pulled it over his head. From beneath it, he yelled, "Wake me up when the sun sets!" For the first time in a long time, Spike relaxed at the thought of seeing Buffy, rather than tensing. He pictured her golden hair and went to sleep.

_"Spike?" Buffy asked incredulously. "Is that you?"_

_"Yes, Buffy. I'm here." She took a few steps closer to him._

_"I thought...I thought you were dead!" Tears formed in her eyes. Spike had yet to let his get that far._

_"I was, love. It's a long story." He watched as Buffy took another step towards him. She reached out a shaking hand and touched his face. Spike held it there._

_"It's real. You're not a dream." Buffy's eyes were shining. Spike couldn't bear it any longer and grasped her in his arms. She leaned her head on his chest and began crying profusely._

_"I missed you so much!" Spike kissed her hair. Her scent enveloped his nostrils. "Spike, I love you!"_

_"And Angel?" She looked at him resolutely._

_"I choose you." Spike stroked her hair._

_"I love you, too, Buffy. Always have. Always will." _

Cold water stung Spike's head and shoulders. He opened his eyes to see Illyria standing before him with a bucket. She looked annoyingly pleased with herself.

"What the bloody--"

"You told me to wake you up when the sun set."

Spike felt like punching her, but considering how she had almost decapitated him with her bare hands just a few hours before, he decided to unclench his fist.

"A tap on the shoulder would have worked. You didn't have to recruit the bleeding calvary."

"No. I killed all of them. Remember?" Illyria smiled grimly.

"Figure of speech, blue." The cold water was unpleasant, yes, but what angered Spike the most was being torn away from his beautiful dream. He hadn't felt so serene since the night before he died...the second time. Spike rubbed his eyes wearily, sat up, and sighed. "Let's see if we can find some wheels."

Spike felt as though they were traveling through a tomb as they canvassed the entire Wolfram and Hart lower levels. Finally, they found an old red Mustang.

"This'll have to do." He opened the door, sat down and leaned under the console. "This, pet, is how you hotwire a car."

"What?"

"It's how you make this moving contraption start when you don't have keys." Once Illyria understood, she watched intently, eager to soak up any knowledge of the world she now lived in.

Spike pulled out of the parking garage and his heart felt lighter, as it always did, when he was driving. He fiddled with the radio until he finally settled on a station and began drummming his thubms on the steering wheel and singing as they cruised through the vibrant streets of L.A.

"_Fun fun! Rock 'n' roll high school. Fun fun! Rock 'n' roll high_--"

"What are you doing?" Illyria snapped.

"Oh yeah. I forget you're old. This band is called the Ramones. Fab music. I went to some concerts. Ate a punk rocker, or two. Sort of bitter tasting."

"_This_ is MUSIC?"

"Well...yeah." Spike didn't now quite how to reply.

"It sounds more like the scraping of jagged metal."

"You don't like this? It's the greatest music there is!" Illyria glared, so Spike turned the radio up louder.

"Now this," he yelled, "is how you're _supposed_ to listen to it!" Without warning, Illyria punched her hand through the radio and the car fell silent once more.

"Fine, then. Be that way."

They arrived at the airport and Spike set out purposefully towards the revolving doors. He looked at her and stopped dead in his tracks.

"Illyria! What are you doing?" Spike whispered.

"Following you."

"Yeah, but you don't look--" Before he could finish, Fred looked at him disapprovingly.

"All ya had to do was ask, Mister! Besides, you don't look so normal yourself." She had a point. Spike cursed under his breath, then took off his beloved trenchcoat and set it safely inside the car. It was then that he realized they didn't have a plan.

"We need to come up with a story. That way, if anybody asks, we'll lie better. I know! How about we're business partners picking up a package, which is actually some foreign dignitary? Yeah..." Spike smiled to himself. This could be fun.

"Or, more likely, a husband and wife picking up a relative. Sounds less suspicious."

Spike faltered. "Oh. Right. That makes better sense. Well, then, let's do it." Spike extended the crook of his arm towards Illyria. She slipped her hand through it and snuggled close to him. Spike smiled at her awkwardly.

"Spike, you don't really look like a husband."

"Sorry. Just feels wierd." She looked at him knowingly.

"Well, get over it. We can't afford being caught, now can we?"

"Yes, master. I see I've trained you well." Illyria snorted and they once again began to make their way towards the airport.

They entered the revolving doors and passed a scowling guard. Spike nodded his head and said, in an American accent, "How'd you do, sir?" He kissed Illyria on the head, and they continued on their way.

"Ooh, honey. I like your accent," Illyria joked.

"If something were to happen, at least there would be a difference between me and the person they were looking for," Spike said haughtily. Illyria suppressed another laugh.

"So, what exactly are we doing here?"

"This way, pet." He guided her towards one of the gates at the airport. He pointed through the glass and said, "Those are airplanes. Pilots fly them. We need to find one who can get us to Italy."

Spike led her to a door labeled _EMPLOYEES ONLY_. He reached over and broke the padlock on the door, looked to see if anyone was watching, then pushed Illyria through the door and followed. They went down two sets of stairs before reaching the tarmac. They kept to the shadows and waited. About thirty minutes later, Spike saw a tall, lean man exiting a plane with _Linee Aeree Italiane_ written on the side.

"This is it, blue." Spike sighed then slowly stepped towards him. The man tipped his cap to him, but didn't stop. "Excuse me, sir!" Spike called, then followed.

The man turned to look at Spike. He was weary and his young face was marred by his fatigue. He furrowed his brow. "Do I know you?"

"No, but I'm interested in hiring you."

"Well, thanks, but no thanks. As you can see, I already have a job." He turned away again, but Spike put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"How much do you get paid?"

"More than you can offer, I'm sure."

"Oh, I doubt that," Spike countered, thinking of the vault of money waiting for him at Hell, Inc.

The man surveyed him, then said, "About a hundred thousand dollars a year."

"How about for a flight to Italy and back?"

"About one thousand."

"I'll pay you five. I'll provide the jet for you, and room and board once we get there. But, it may be a while before we return."

"How long?"

"Months. You got any objections?"

The man looked a little uneasy. "Who are you? Why me?"

"Spike, and you're the first man I saw getting off a jet with Italian words on the side. Now, do we have a deal or not? I'd hate for you to get to know my bad side." He glanced to his left to see Illyria standing by the door they came through and watching the conversation progressing.

"It's a deal." Spike shook his hand.

"We leave tomorrow. I'll send my associate," he pointed to Illyria, "to get you at one o' clock."

"Wait. Tomorrow? So soon?"

"You made the deal--I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

The man swallowed, and said, "Mark. Mark London."

"Well, Mark, you made a deal. I'd hate to see what would happen should you go back on it." Spike shook his head and put on his vampire face. He shook it again and resumed his human face. Mark gaped at him.

"So, for the last time, do we have a deal?" Mark nodded silently. Spike clapped him on the shoulder and called Illyria over.

"This is--"

"Hi! I'm Fred! Winifred Burkle." She extended her hand and Mark shook it in a daze.

"Mark London. What's a pretty girl like you doing with _him?_" he asked.

"Honestly, I don't know!" she giggled.

Spike rolled his eyes. "Bloody hell, please, can we stick to business?"

"Sure, boss. After all, Mark and I can always get to know each other later."

"Now, _Fred,_ you will pick up our Mr. London out front at one o' clock tomorrow. Mark, you will be waiting. Ill---Fred will bring you back to our, er, home office, and you'll prepare the plane for takeoff so we can leave as soon as the sun sets. Are we clear?" After a few moments of Mark and Illyria staring at each other, Spike threw his head back and exhaled. He snapped his fingers and Mark looked at him. "One more thing, Mark. Can you get us out of here?"

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Poor Mr. London doesn't know what he's gotten himelf into! Just so you know, Sangue is pronounced SAHN-geh. A reader, my sister, thought people might be interested to know.

suikofan: You'll have to wait and see!

spbangel: Thank you! I'm trying to update as quickly as possible.


	4. Home

Willow straightened a pile of papers on her desk and turned off an overhead projector. "That should be it for today. _A domani_!" she said, and the students immediately dispersed. A tall and slender woman advanced toward her.

"Good job, Ms. Rosenberg. You're Italian is a little rough, but you'd never know you've only lived here for...how long?"

Willow blushed. "About three months. I'm a quick learner."

"I see." There was a moment of silence as the woman stared at Willow.

Willow cleared her throat then said, "I'm sorry. I'm not sure who you are."

"Oh, I must have forgotten my manners. I'm Dr. Canzona. I'm your, er, what do they call?--oh, yes, faculty supervisor. I'll observe you in the classroom, be a liasion between you and the board, and answer any questions you might have." Willow looked at the woman. At first glance, she looked stern. Her dark, curly hair was bound into a tight bun at the back of her head. Red glasses sat on the bridge of her nose. But when looked at more closely, there was a lightness in her gray eyes and the corners of her mouth were slightly upturned. Willow shifted uncomfortably.

"You've got your doctorate already? You seem fairly young." Willow felt stupid after she said that, but it was too late to take it back. The doctor laughed.

"I am, I suppose. I was very driven. I saw no purpose in wasting time. And, well, here I am." She smiled and Willow's heart jumped. It was unsettling.

"Well, Ms. Rosenberg, I have other things to attend to. I'll see you at your next class." She walked out of the room and Willow watched her in a daze. She shook her head and all thoughts of the mysterious woman, and went back to gathering her things.

Willow unlocked the door to her apartment. She set her bags down and sighed deeply. She closed the door, then leaned against the door and closed her eyes.

"Hey, there!" Willow jumped as she saw Kennedy standing before her. She smiled weakly.

"Oh. Hey." Kennedy kissed her on the cheek.

"You look flushed. Are you feeling okay?" Kennedy reached out to feel her forehead, but Willow pushed her hand away.

"I'm fine. Just tired, is all." She began to walk over to the kitchen area of the apartment.

"Oh. Okay. So, how was school? Did you learn stuff?" Kennedy asked brightly, following her.

"Well, not really, since today was a teaching day, and all." Willow opened their small refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water.

"Right. I forgot. Well, what do you want to do tonight? I thought maybe we could go get something to eat." Willow took a large drink of water.

"Well, I'd really love to do that, but I have some texts that Giles needed me to help him translate. So..." She took another drink of water as she waited for Kennedy's response.

"I see. Well, maybe I'll just go out then. ...What would you think about that?" Kennedy looked slightly disconcerted.

"If you want to, you can. You know I don't mind." She smiled and pecked Kennedy on the cheek before walking over to her laptop and turning it on.

Kennedy sighed deeply. "Fine. I'll see you later." She turned and opened the door. "Don't wait up, Willow." She grabbed her purse, then left.

Willow looked at the door and began to feel apprehensive. She wasn't sure just what exactly she was feeling right now. She still loved Kennedy, but she wasn't quite sure if she was still _in _love with her. The things about her that had once made Willow smile now annoyed her. Perhaps it was being in such close quarters with her all the time. Maybe they shouldn't have moved in together so soon. But now, Willow found herself spending as much time as she could anywhere but at her home, mainly at school or helping Giles when he needed it.

_Right. The translating_, Willow thought. She reached inside her bag and pulled out an old book. She began entering the text into the new program she designed that helped her to crossreference ancient texts with modern languages to find common patterns and therefore translate easier and faster. It was tedious and boring work at times, but one Willow also enjoyed.

Willow had only been teaching for about a month. She was in a symbology class when one of her professors asked her to teach. She had been quite surprised at his request, but had risen to the challenge since, though she hadn't told anyone, had already learned the entire textbook. The next day, she had been asked to take over a class that had been abandoned by another professor, and, well, the rest was history.

The fact that there was a professor in her classroom that afternoon had been quite a surprise. Quite a surprise, indeed. More shocking than the fact that the faculty had actually remembered that she was teaching this course, though, was the woman herself.

Willow couldn't shake the image of the doctor. Her dark and striking features seemed to replace all of the drawings of demons in the scroll. Willow taught again tomorrow and she could hardly wait to see the woman again.

_No. I can wait. I'm full of waitingness,_ Willow thought. She sighed for what seemed like the thousandth time that day. _I'm not even making any sense._ The fact that she was having so many thoughts about a woman besides her girlfriend made her feel sick and guilty, even though she hadn't done anything. It wasn't that she didn't like Kennedy. She cared deeply for her. But... Willow firmly decided not to think about it for the rest of the night and devoted herself to the translations.

A few hours later, the phone rang. "Hello?" Willow answered softly. She felt somewhat disoriented.

"Willow? Are you all right?" The rich voice was filled with concern, and Willow could imagine the man's expression.

"Yes, Giles. I'm fine. What did you need?"

"The text I gave you. Have you looked over it yet?"

"I've spent the last three hours or so entering the text. I'm almost done."

"Good. Well, the scroll I gave you, it's only part of the entire, er, book. I have the other half. I just finished translating it about an hour or so myself. I hit a rather confusing, er, bump in the road, if you will. Would you mind calling me as soon as you get finished?"

"No problem, Giles." She hung up and returned to the last few paragraphs of the scroll. A few minutes later, she entered the code in her program that allowed it to begin searching for the language it was most closely related to. The laptop emitted a small beep.

_Italian. Go figure_, Willow thought. She clicked the translate button and the computer began it's work. First, it would completely translate all known words to Italian. Whichever words didn't match were seperated for Willow herself to de-code, then re-enter into the text. Then, the computer finished translating it into English. It had taken her a few months to develop the software and many frustrating nights spent gazing at the screen and pouring over manuals, but the finished product made it all worth it.

Willow waited for the next beep, signaling her part in figuring out the unknown words, but it never came. Finally, the English sat before her. "Huh!" she said to herself. She picked up the phone and called Giles.

"Read it to me, if you will."

"_All_ of it?"

"Yes, Willow. It's necessary, I'm afraid."

"All right. But only for you, buddy." Willow felt slightly uneasy when Giles didn't laugh. "Wow. Must be important. All right, then." She took a deep breath and began to read the pages to Giles. About fifteen minutes later, she finished.

"Oh, dear. It's just as I thought. Would you mind joining me here, Willow? I'm afraid I'll need your help quite desperately."

"Of course. I'll be there in about thirty minutes." She hung up the phone and rubbed her eyes. She blinked away the bluriness that appeared before her and stood up slowly. She walked into the kitchen and poured herself a cold cup of coffee from the pot she had made earlier that morning. She began to drink it as she reached into the cabinet to grab a granola bar. She ate and drank quickly, then grabbed her wallet and coat and set out the door.

The nippy air bit at her arms as she hailed a cab. She hopped inside, thankful for the somewhat warm interior of the taxi. She leaned her head back against the seat as she began the journey to Slayer Central, as the Scooby Gang had dubbed it. She thought of it more as her home in Italy.

She paid the driver, then approached the three story house. To Willow, it looked like a giant cottage out of a fairy tale. The house had been an orhpanage about thirty years before, but was sold to a rich doctor after the owners quit. Though it hadn't been really refurbished until they moved in, they didn't care since they hadn't had to pay for it (Giles apparently had done the doctor a big favor--though he wouldn't say what).

Willow walked past the half-dead flowers she suspected Giles couldn't get anyone to tend regularly and breathed in a deep breath as she knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" a young voice called from inside.

"Willow Danielle Rosenberg!" Willow yelled back. The door opened to reveal a tall and sweet looking brunette young woman with bright eyes. She ran at Willow and threw her arms around her.

"Ooph! Hey, Dawnie!" Willow managed to choke out. Dawn let go.

"Sorry. It just seems like eons since I last saw you," she said apologetically.

"Dawn, I was here last month."

"Exactly. Forever ago. Especially with all those boys around." Willow stepped inside and took her coat off, gingerly setting her belongings down.

"Don't forget about Andrew!" she said out of the side of her mout. Dawn started laughing hysterically and Willow joined her, feeling her tension slowly begin to ebb away. It was good to be home.

"Weren't you gonna say 'hi'?" Willow turned around to see Xander standing before her. She hugged him and felt like never letting go of the one thing in her life that had always been there and always would be.

"Hey, Will. Missed you, too." For once, Xander wasn't being sarcastic. AFter a while, they let go. Willow looked up at her one-eyed best friend and felt a pang of sorrow trob in her heart. She felt like crying every time she thought about what had befallen him.

"Like the new eye patch? It's the hottest thing in Milan right now," he joked in a bad Italian accent. " No. Really. They had to special order one to fit my head." Willow giggled, then remembered the initial reason she came.

"Where's Giles?" she asked as she retrieved the ancient text, her laptop, and a bottled frappucino from her pile of belongings.

"With all of the books. Where else?" The walked through the kitchen where a few young slaywers waved, "Hi, Willow." She waved back as they entered the library.

Willow smiled. She hadn't seen Giles like this in a long time. His glasses were askew ans his hair rumpled. he scrutinized minute texts and muttered to himself.

"Hey, Giles!" Willow said brightly, yet softly, lest she startle him to death.

"Willow! Please. Do come in," he said distractedly. Willow pulled up a padded chair and sat opposite him.

"Lock that door, will you?" he asked. After recieveing a dumbstruck look from Willow, he explained, "The only way to safeguard against distracting Slayers when I can't afford being distracted." When she still didn't move, he added, "Don't worry. Xander has a key."

"No. It's not that. It's just...couldn't they force the door open anyway?" Giles paused for a moment, then sighed deeply.

"I've missed you, Willow." He took off his glasses and cleaned them with a spare hankie on the table. It was an action that comforted Willow so much she couldn't put it into words.

"I've missed you, too, Giles."

Giles put his glasses back on and brushed his fingers through his hair. He put a bookmark in the book he was reading and closed it. He looked directly at her with kind eyes. "How are you?" he sincerely probed.

Willow swallowed. "I'm doing pretty good. I love teaching. It's just so interesting to see someone when something you teach them sticks, you know? Anyways, my classes are going pretty well, too. I'm not doing as good as I used to, though. I mean, I made a _ninety-four_ on my last "Intro to Symbology" test! It's stressing me out."

Giles laughed with mirth. Willow looked at him reproachfully. He straightened and said, "Yes, I suppose it is. Please continue."

Before Willow knew it, everything she had been wanting to say for the past month, maybe more, came pouring out of her. "Ever since Kennedy and I moved in together, things have been...wierd. I don't know. She kind of annoys me. I still care about her, but now, it seems like I'm trying to do whatever it takes not to go home. I don't want to hurt her, though. I still love her. I just don't know that I can live with her. And if I can't _live_ with her, then..." She took a deep breath. Giles pondered the situation thoughtfully and clucked his tongue.

"Honesty, Willow, is key. Let her know how you feel, or you'll end up hurting her more than if you didn't." She nodded.

"Thanks, Giles."

He cleared his throat, then said, "Now. Do you have your half?" Willow held up her laptop. "Excellent!"

A/N: This chapter was really easy to write for some reason. I got it done in about four or five hours total. Not too bad! Maybe I'm channelling my inner Willow... Hope you guys enjoyed! Questions? Comments? Concerns? E-mail me!

spbangel: Glad you're enjoying it!

Popping up Blanks: Sorry to disappoint, but it will be a while before they actually meet up. This is the fourth chapter and it's just now the end of the first day (though they won't all necessarily be like this. Expostition takes a while).

spiked punch1: Thank you! Hopefully you'll like the ending!


	5. Flight

Spike awoke to the sounds of whistling. He peeked out from underneath his trench to discover

the source of the sound. He looked around and stared at Illyria, as Fred, preening in the mirror.

She put on a liberal amount of lipgloss, then kissed her reflection. Spike held back a bark of

laughter in disbelief as he saw that long earrings dangled from her ears.

"Since when do you know how to do _that_?" She looked at him annoyingly and he was

shocked at the drastic difference in her appearance. Fred would never have looked so…trashy.

But Illyria in Fred's body? She pulled it off.

"What do you mean?" she asked innocently.

"Oh, you know. The makeup, the jewelry. I thought you were supposed to be a demon god."

"God_dess_," she corrected. "Look, Spike. All I know is that Mr. London is Mr. Cute, 'kay? I just want to look nice for him. Must be what's left of Fred in me."

Spike cringed. "Where did you get that anyway?"

Illyria shrugged absentmindedly. "Found it behind Harmony's old desk. She must have left it behind. Well, Spike, I have to go get Mark. Why don't you get some rest?" She waved and walked out the door.

Though this was something that normally would have angered Spike, he was too tired to care. He lay back against the charred arm of the sofa and closed his eyes once more.

"_Spike? …Is that you?" Buffy asked in awe._

"_Yes, Buffy. I'm here." He took a few steps closer towards her._

"_I thought you were dead." She frowned and furrowed her eyebrows._

"_I was, pet, but…it's a long story." He reached out to touch her and she took a step back. Spike's stomach dropped to the floor as he saw a man step out of the shadows and put a protective arm around her shoulders._

"You!_" Spike yelled at the man. He turned to Buffy. "What are you doing with this prat?"_

"_Spike, he's my boyfriend, now. You need to accept that we aren't…I'm not with you. I never was. I never will be. I'm with Sangue." She looked pityingly at him._

"Sangue?_ Is that the lie he told you? Did he forget to mention the bit about his bloody past as the dreaded vampire 'The Immortal!'?"_

"_Spike. Stop it. If you can't handle this—if you can't leave me alone, I will stake you this time. I mean that."_

Spike sat up in a cold sweat. _That wasn't too pleasant_, he thought. He tried to shrug away the fear of seeing Buffy that had been eating at him ever since he was brought back to life.

He looked at his darkened surroundings and realized he would be leaving soon to see her. He sighed and stood up, groggily. He heard Illyria and Mark laughing. _Must be Sonny and Cher having a go_, he thought to himself sourly. He walked into the hangar and saw Mark adjusting something underneath the jet and Illyria, as Fred, watching in fascination.

"You about ready to go, ponce?" he asked Mark. The man raised his head and yelped at the pain of his skull colliding with the steel.

"Ouch!" He gently lowered his head and crawled out from under the plane. He rubbed his head gently.

"Poor thing! Are you okay?" Illyria asked, feigning solicitousness.

Spike laughed deeply then waved his hand nonchalantly. "He'll be fine. What's our ETD?"

Mark narrowed his eyes, sighed, then answered, "About an hour. I have a few more pre-flight checks to do, and then we should be good to go."

"Come on, _Fred_. Let's pack."

As soon as they were out of earshot, Illyria punched Spike in the stomach. The vampire crumpled to his knees in agony, tears flowing out of his eyes.

"What was that for?" he managed.

"For making Mark hit his head and patronizing him! For being rude to him in general." She glared proudly at him.

"Women," he said under his breath. He took a few deep breaths then got to his feet.

"So, boss…what do we need to do?" She smiled sweetly at him. He gritted his teeth and sighed, holding a hand to his stomach.

"First, I want you to find all of the luggage that you can. Bring it down here. Look for anything else in this Godforsaken place that might be of use to us. Then pack up whatever you have to take. Then, we'll load up. Understood?"

She nodded and walked away. As soon as she was out of sight, he walked over to the large vault. He stared at the money inside and shook his head. It had to be at least six feet deep and four feet tall. He waited for Illyria to bring down the entire luggage, and then started the tedious task of managing the millions of dollars of cash.

Illyria came in and out a few times before he finished. She had already gotten two or three bags ready by the time he started gathering his things, or looking for things he could use, rather.

He found himself in Angel's office and looked around at the charred ruins. He felt a strange sensation inside him as he stood over the spot where he had first been re-introduced to this plane of existence. He looked around to see if there was anything worth taking. He found nothing.

Spike entered Angel's old bedroom next. He went to the closets and looked at the array of fine suits, button up shirts, dress pants and dress shoes. He cursed under his breath and thought, _This'll have to do._ He smirked sadly at the neatly folded piles of underwear in one of the dresser drawers. He began to throw it all in a suitcase.

Spike put the last bag of his in the storage area under the jet. He reached into one bag and counted out a small handful of cash.

"Here. Half now, and half when we land." Mark reached out for the money, but Spike pulled his hand away.

"No, no, no. You only get the cash once you promise to stop acting like a pouf."

This time, Mark rolled his eyes. Spike raised his eyebrows expectantly. Finally, the pilot said, "I promise not to act like a…pouf."

"Good boy!" Spike patted him on the head, handed him the cash, then walked around to the other side of the plane. Mark and Illyria followed. He opened the door for his passengers. Spike took a step forward before he felt an arm reach out to stop him.

"Ladies first, sir."

"I guess you should get on, then," Spike replied bitterly. He opened his mouth to say something else, but was cut off by Illyria brushing past him onto the jet.

Mark waved his arm for Spike to get on. Spike narrowed his eyes and stepped inside. He quickly settled into one of the plush seats and closed his eyes. It wasn't long before he felt like he had eaten some old person and began to panic.

_So I'm going to Italy, but what of it? What happens when I get there?_ Mark's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"We are now leaving Los Angeles, California and are on our way to Florence, Italy. Please buckle your seat belts and enjoy the flight." Illyria giggled.

"Oh, Mark, you're so clever, talkin' like it's an actual commercial flight." Spike snorted. Moments like these reminded him that no matter how much she looked and sounded like Fred, she was her polar opposite.

Spike heard Mark's voice again, "If you want, you can sit up here with me once we're in the air, Winnie!"

"All right, Marky!" Fred cheerily replied. Spike opened his eyes only to see her smiling dreamily in her seat.

_Good Lord, nicknames? They've known each other for a day!_ He closed his eyes again, and resumed his thoughts. _Back to Buffy…I can't just go find her once I get there. She's dating _him_. Maybe…maybe I should find Willow or Xander first. Better yet, Dawn. Dawn will trust me and help me. If I can just find out how to approach her without her hating me… _He heard Illyria stir in her seat and head towards the cockpit.

He lifted his head up to look at her and felt like it was too heavy to support. Suddenly, he felt an aching in his stomach, dryness in his throat, and he passed out.

A/N: Sorry that it took me so long to update! I was having computer problems. I know this chapter was pretty short, but the next one will hopefully be a bit longer. See if you can guess who the next chapter will be about (hint: not Spike)! The first correct answer will…get a pat on the back. No, I think I'll let the winner get a spoiler if they want one. Anyway, I'll be gone for two weeks to a writing camp (ha ha) and should have a new chapter ready to go by the time I get back. So until then, please comment, comment, comment! I'd be nothing without your feedback! Thanks.

midvalley9: Thank you. I plan to.

curlyhair343: Thank you for complementing my technique and flowability. Of course, I just used a made up word.

spbangel: Yay! Thank you!


	6. Missing

Luggage leaned against the door to Slayer Central, eager to go inside.

"You better go. Sun's almost up."

"I know." He kissed her on the forehead.

He held her gaze, then disappeared. She turned to face the door, breathed deeply, then carefully turned the key in the the lock. She quietly attempted to enter the house without waking any of the Slayers.

She slowly closed the door behind her, then progressed lightly up the stairs. She turned on the landing and smiled triumphantly.

"Buffy?"

She jumped and her bags fell down the stairs, clattering loudly. Buffy closed her eyes slowly.

"Dawn…"

"Sorry," the girl said meekly. "It's just…I couldn't sleep and I heard someone come in and wanted to see if it was you."

"Well, everyone should know I'm home by now," she replied, eyeing her strewn clothing.

"Yikes!" Dawn said quietly as she viewed the scene. "See ya!" She turned to go back to her room.

Buffy grabbed her cotton tank top. "Hold on there. You made me drop it, you're helping me."

Dawn groaned as they surveyed the ruins of Buffy's possessions. They first cleared everything off of the staircase, then began to sort thought it. A few minutes later, Buffy and Dawn ascended the staircase once more, each heading to their own bedroom doors.

"I'm going to bed. Don't wake me up."

Dawn shrugged. "I won't. But the soon-to-be past Potentials might."

Buffy eyed her, technically, five year old sister. "Night, Dawn."

"Night," she said softly. Buffy watched Dawn turn to her door, then was almost knocked to the ground as she unexpectedly was hugged by her.

"Oof!" she sighed.

Dawn bent down awkwardly as she hugged her around her middle. Buffy smiled as Dawn straightened.

"I'm glad you're home, Buffy." Dawn's eyes glistened and Buffy felt her throat tighten. She stroked her little sister's hair.

"Me, too."

Buffy opened the door to her darkened room. She breathed in the familiar scents of her candles and perfume, set her luggage down and yawned. She quickly changed into her pajamas, her eyes tearing at another yawn. The Slayer was so fatigued she could barely make it to her bed. _Maybe I can get a few hours of sleep before I have to be Bossy Buffy_, she thought.

She walked over to her side of the bed, pulled back the covers and shrieked.

Willow Rosenberg blearily opened her eyes and peered at her. "Buffy?"

"_Willow?_" They stared at each other for a few moments before Buffy asked, "Will…why are you in my bed?"

Finally being awake enough to understand what was going on, Willow said, "Oh! Yeah…" She moved to the other side of the bed. Buffy chuckled and climbed in.

"Thanks for letting me have my side. So, you wanna fill me in?"

"Well, Giles needed me to help him research and it was just easier to stay here than to commute from my place. And your bed was available. And…sorry?"

"I don't care. I was just a little wigged, is all." She searched her friend's face, normally amiable, but now etched with worry. "You okay?"

Willow looked at her intertwined fingers. "I don't know. I'm so confused right now."

Buffy put her arm around her shoulders. "You wanna talk about it?"

Willow frowned at her. "Maybe later. Let's just sleep."

Buffy nodded knowingly and they scooted down into a laying position.

"Buffy?" she heard her whisper, voice cracking. "Welcome home."

Buffy smiled once more and closed her eyes.

Sunlight peeked through the curtains; Buffy opened one eye too look at her clock.

"Four hours. Not bad." She swept the heavy blankets off of her body and climbed out of bed, noticing Willow had already risen and made her side of the bed.

She began to dress and dreaded having to fulfill Giles's request of evaluating the progress of the new Slayers, but she knew it was a necessary evil.

_And I can't complain too much,_ she reasoned. _It's the first thing he's really made me do since…_

"The Hellmouth," she said aloud. Coldness filled her heart and an ubervamp flashed before her eyes. Imprinted more solidly was the memory of Spike and the burning amulet around his neck, the fire that coursed through her when their hands clasped for the final time.

She attempted to brush the thoughts aside (a routine activity now) and continued to fasten the metal buttons on her white collared blouse. She finished dressing just as there was a knock on the door.

"Come in!" she called as she combed her hair in front of the mirror. The door creaked open and Giles entered.

"Buffy…are you well? Er, rested, I mean, after your, er, holiday?" he asked.

She grinned. "I'm fine, Giles."

"Good. Good. Uh, well, there's breakfast downstairs and the girls are ready whenever you are. Willow and I will be in the library."

"Fifteen minutes?" she asked.

He sighed. "It's good to have you back." The corners of his mouth twitched and he left, quietly closing the door behind him.

Buffy faced the mirror once more as she swept her hair into a low ponytail. She slipped her feet into sandals and tried to summon the energy to go downstairs.

She found herself in the kitchen. There was an empty plate, an empty glass beside it, and clean silverware neatly placed on top of a clean napkin waiting for her on the counter.

"Hey, Buff!" Xander beamed. "How's the Buffster doin'? Dawnie told me you got in pretty late last night."

"Yeah, I'm on about four hours of sleep. Your enthusiasm is appreciated, but a little overwhelming right now," she replied as she massaged her temples.

"Sorry. Me talk normal now."

Buffy smiled and sat down. "So, what's for breakfast?"

"Well, I have prepared an excellent meal this morning. There are some cold eggs, cold bacon, and cold pancakes." He spoke with a poor Italian accent.

"Oh, yummy!" Buffy sarcastically interjected.

"Ah, but with this wonderful invention called the microwave, I can reheat your meal and you will have a bon appetit!"

"That's French," she laughed as he began fixing her plate.

"This I know," he replied, still using the accent, then said normally, "It's just because I don't know any Italian."

After a few high-pitched beeps, her meal was ready and she and Xander talked as

she ate.

"Oh! Here's the syrup," he said as he handed it to her from the cupboard.

"Mmm…thank you," she said greedily as she thoroughly coated her pancakes

with the substance. Xander pulled it away from her and set it down.

"I'm cutting you off. You've had plenty," he gravely told her. She looked up at him and his sweet eye-patched face, love for her friend filling her heart, hatred and pure venom for Caleb pounding in her head.

"I missed you, Xander," she finally said.

"I missed you, too, Buffy. We have to steal you back from Sangue more often." They hugged and she quickly finished her breakfast.

"Okay!" she yelled a few minutes later. "You know what I'll be looking for. We only have six dummies, so we'll go in groups of three. Now, Xander has helped us by rigging the dummies to be used in our evaluation today. They are now motorized and have a heart for you to stake. That's all I have to say. Be sure you have the forms Giles gave you. I'll take the first group now. One, two, three. The rest of you—don't get too nervous."

The girls she counted off gave her their papers, then followed her nervously.

Six dummies stood consecutively in the basement. She led them down the stairs and went to stand behind the dummies. The three girls stood frozen at the foot of the stairs.

"Go ahead. They don't bite. At least, I don't think they do."

A cocky redhead was the first to step forward, the other two following. They spread out, each having two dummies to themselves.

"Okay, there's a box of stakes over there. You can leave once you've staked two vamps. And…go!"

She pressed a button and the six "vampires" began to move, each on their own path. She turned to Xander who sat on the couch behind her.

"I'm pretty impressed, Mr. Harris."

"Well, I've been reading up—yes, reading—on how to rig little things like this. It's actually pretty simple. Willow had to help me, of course."

She faced the girls to view their progress. One girl fought a dummy that was a good foot taller than her. Buffy watched her struggle to fight off the towering dummy. She rolled her eyes and looked at the other girls.

The redhead was cornered by two. Suddenly, she dropped to the ground and somersaulted over to the box of stakes and grabbed another one, the "vamps" following her. She stood up, a stake in each hand and staked both, sawdust pouring on the floor. The dummies rolled back to their original place as the girl dropped her stakes smugly, the sound ricocheting off of the basement walls. She pompously walked towards the stairs.

"Hey! Get over here!" The girl swaggered towards Buffy, a sour look on her face.

She reached the couch, looked the elder Slayer up and down then said, "What?"

"Okay, that's enough," Buffy sighed, frustrated. With one swift move, she forced the girl to sit on the couch next to Xander.

"Hiya," he waved awkwardly.

"Hey, watch it bi--!" the girl started.

"Oh, no. You will _not_ take that tone with me. You may think you're a Slayer, but you aren't. Not until I say so. Your moves just now were completely unnecessary. You aren't James Bond. You don't need to roll on the ground to get another stake. And while we're on _that_ subject, when you actually slay real vampires, there won't be a box of stakes conveniently laid out for you. You could have gotten them with one. I've seen too many girls get killed over stupid things like that to let you continue your moronic behavior."

"Done yet, Mother?"

"Yes. I am." The girl knocked her shoulder abrasively as she left.

"Oh, and you didn't pass!" she called after her. She watched the girl who had finally killed one vampire, the last one in the basement, punch the second. She rubbed her forehead and sat on the couch.

"Wow, Buff. That was pretty scary."

She leaned her head on Xander's broad shoulder and groaned. "It's gonna be a long day."

A/N: Hope you all enjoyed. Buffy had quite a rough homecoming, but what's new? Sorry it took me so long to update, but as I told you guys at the end of the last chapter, I was at arts camp for creative writing. Anyway, chapter seven is already underway and hopefully that will be up around Monday or Tuesday. Until then, please comment and give me feedback. Your response is what will make it better. Thanks again!

spbangel: I'm glad you are still enjoying it! It's good to have one fan! ;-)

Weeza: I felt the same way about BTVS fanfics. It was hard to find any that stayed true to the characters and had an interesting storyline that didn't totally convolute Joss's viewpoint. I'm glad you are enjoying and it makes me feel wonderful that you think I have portrayed the characters accurately. Let me know if I ever stray.


	7. Landing

Glass clattered on oak. Spike swallowed hard and blinked his eyes as he reflected on the amount of blood he had just consumed.

"Bloody...hell," he muttered as he felt a drastic change come over himself. The base of his stomach no longer felt non-existent. His throat didn't throb anymore. His vision cleared and he could think. "That pig blood really hit the spot."

The blond vampire turned to survey his surroundings. The first thing he had done upon arriving in his hotel suite was consume his repast. And what other choice did he have? He could only think about the fact that he would soon see Buffy. But that had led him to unintentionally starving himself.

The plush, white king-sized bed for one seemed wretched, as did the living room, complete with surround sound and satellite. He wondered in the back of his mind if _Passions_ played in Italy. He shook his head in frustration.

"Bollocks." Spike grabbed his coat and stormed out of the room.

He haphazardly approached the meek teenage boy behind the front desk. "Uh...where find...good...pubs where..." He paused to make a drinking motion with his hand. The teenager furrwoed his bushy brows from behind smudged glasses.

"You mean a club, or something like that, sir?" the kid said in perfect English.

"Oh, uh...yeah," Spike dumbly replied, taken aback.

"Actually, one of Florence's most popular clubs is just a few blocks down. I can give you directions."

Spike nodded and the gawky boy wrote down street addresses of various places. He took the slip of paper and set off towards the revolving doors.

The crisp air was refreshing to him. Out of habit, he took a deep breath through his nostrils, closing his eyes, and waited for Buffy's scent to reach him. He only inhaled the usual city smells of gasoline, sweat, and smoke.

"Stupid," he sighed to himself a few seconds later. He walked in the direction that Anton, pathetic he knew that geek's name, pointed him in. A thumping, yet somewhat dingy club protruded on the street corner a few mintues later.

Spike shrugged and walked in the door. The place was populous, but not too crowded. He could blend in without suffocating--figuratively, of course. He headed towards a small table by the bar. The red vinyl cushion squeaked against the leather of his trench and he rolled his eyes.

"Che volei a te come?" a skinny brunette wearing a revealing, black cocktail dress asked him.

"Uh, no speak Italian," he lamely replied.

She smiled toothily and nodded. "I sorry. I should know. You don't look like you from here. Uh, what would you like to drink?"

"A beer."

"Oh. Are you sad?"

Spike closed his eyes and tried to control his temper. "Yes, I am. And you are insightful for a waitress. May I have my drink?"

"Huh? Oh. Okay. I'll have it soon. For you."

Spike focused his attention on the small stage. He shrank back as he listened to the person's horrid singing.

"_Secret agent man! Secret agent man! They gave him a number, and took away his name!_" he sang off key. A few moments later, much to Spike's relief, he finished.

"Thank you! Thank you!" he said to a few people's applause. "That was dedicated to the one and only secret agent man, double-oh-seven."

That voice. Where had Spike heard that stupid voice? He stared harder at the skinny and awkward young man, who's somewhat shaggy brown-blonde hair shone in the lights of the stage.

"And next, I'd like to welcome up my friend. She's really cute." He started motioning to someone off stage.

Comprehension dawned. "Oh. My. God. _Andrew?_"

"Get on up here, girlfriend!"

Yes, it was definitely Andrew. He was the only person who sounded that ridiculous saying the word, "girlfriend." Spike, mesmerized with amusement, got up out of his chair and took a few steps toward the stage.

"Dawnie! Everyone wants to hear you sing!"

"And _Dawn?_" Spike said incredulously.

"Come on guys, lets hear it for Dawn!" There was some sparse clapping and whistling. For some reason, Spike found himself yelling and clapping very loudly. A few people turned to look at him.

"Thank you, man of mystery who did that, because now she has decided to grace us with her performance! Yay!" He walked offstage and handed her the mic.

"Here you go. A beer," the waitress said proudly.

Spike held out his hand and let her place the alcohol there. He closed his hand around the cool bottle and made his way to the front of the crowd.

"Okay. This song is called, '_Do You Want to Know a Secret?_'" the girl stammered nervously.

Spike was now just a few feet away from her. He smirked and wondered if she noticed him.

"_Listen,_" she softly sang. "_Do you want to know a secret?_"

Spike frowned as the backing vocals overpowered her and sweat beaded on her brow. He felt terrible for the girl and was more annoyed than ever with Andrew for putting her up to it. His shoulders slumped and he rubbed his eyes.

"_Say the words you long to hear_," he found himself singing. "_I'm in love with you-ou_."

Dawn's mouth dropped open as she stared at him. "Spike?" she whispered.

Spike nodded as he continued singing. "_Do you promise not to tell_?" He gave her a meaningful glance.

"_Closer_," they sang together. Eventually, Spike stopped and Dawn confidently finished the song.

"Thank you," she said sweetly and smiled as she ran off the stage and towards Spike. Before he could think, she had her arms around him in a tight grip.

"Spike. What happened?"

"Nibblet, it's a long story," he sighed, smiling down at her. "What are you doing in a bar with Andrew? Does Buffy know about this? How did you get in?"

"Wow. The first time I've seen you since you supposedly died and it's like you've always been here," she breathed into his shoulder.

"Don't avoid my questions."

She looked up and stood back. "In case you didn't notice when _you_ came in, they don't card here. And anwyays, the drinking age here is 18, so I'm good. Buffy does know that I'm here since I told her, and as for why I'm here with Andrew, I'm not really sure. I think we're kind of friends now. Satisfied?"

"Good God, you're eighteen?" Spike replied.

Dawn smiled. "You missed a lot, Spike. Now, it's time for you to answer some of my questions."

Disclaimer: All rights reserved to the people who own the rights to _Secret Agent Man_ and the Beatles.

A/N: Sorry I didn't update for a while. I had a little bit of writer's block with this chapter. It's kind of short. I hope you all like it. It's a bit different. For those of you who were getting bored, the plot is starting to pick up a bit. The exposition took a while. Anyways, next chapter will be a coninuation of this one. Look for it in a week or two!

AlasseSaralonde2: I'm glad you enjoyed it. Thank you for being the only one to comment on Chapter 6. And for letting me use your laptop.


	8. Nightlife

"So, you were really dead?"

The vampire closed his eyes, pursed his lips, then stared sincerely at the girl before him.

"Yes, but that supid git brought me back. Not to say I'm not happy about it. But he could've done it differently."

"And Buffy doesn't know any of this?"

"No. Not as far as I know."

Dawn stared at him in disbelief. She willed her brain to try and process everything, but it didn't work. She hoped it didn't show on her face. She tucked a long, brown curl behind her ear.

"Wow. And I thought Calculus was bad."

"Yeah."

They sat for a few moments in silence whle Spike downed another bottle of beer and Dawn sipped on her Diet Coke through a straw.

"Good thing vamps don't get drunk. Wait," Dawn laughed. Spike looked up. "You said you were with Angel this whole time?"

"Yeah, unfortunately."

"Well, I find it very hard to believe that he'd let you come all the way over here to see Buffy without him."

"Well, that's the thing, nibblet. Angel...is dead." Spike's grave blue eyes looked away from hers.

"What?" she coughed, sputtering Diet Coke.

After much urging, Spike proceeded to tell the whole story.

"Oh, God. We have to tell Buffy! Have you told Buffy?"

"That's why I need your help.

Dawn snorted. "Me? What would you need _my_ help for?"

Spike leaned forward and looked at her. "You're the Slayer's sister. I can't just barge into her life without warning. Especially now that she's moved on to that ponce."

Dawn furrowed her brows. "You know about Sangue?" She jumped as Spike let out a bark of laughter.

"Is _that_ what he's calling himself now?"

Dawn had no reply, but she didn't like what Spike's question and reaction implied.

"Yes," he smiled, "I do know about..._him_."

"Well, I'm sorry to say this, Spike, but I think Buffy is really in love with him."

"That may be true, but he doesn't love _her_. He's not capable of it. He doesn't have a soul!"

"You didn't have a soul when _you_ fell in love with Buffy." Dawn folded her arms across her chest and stared at him.

"Yeah, but that was different. I wasn't killing people."

"Only because you couldn't!" Dawn smiled at Spike's indignation. "And anyways, how are you so sure Sangue is? He told Buffy he gave it up."

"Dawn, have you even met the guy?"

"Well, no," Dawn said quietly.

"Then how are you so sure he's telling her the truth?"

"All right, you have a point," Dawn conceeded. "It's just, I have a hard time hating him since he makes her so happy. I haven't seen her like this since..." _Before you died,_ is what Dawn wanted to say. But, she didn't think it was her place.

"Since when, Dawn? Since she saw Angel last?"

"No. Spike--"

"Hey, Dawn, we have to get out of here, like now. I challenged this big beefy Oddjob type to an arm wrestle and I think he'll break my arm off! He's looking for me right now."

Dawn coughed at the smell of his booze-y breath and Andrew turned his attention to Spike.

"Oh, hey, Spike. Do you think you can take care of that guy?"

"I don't really care enough to try, honestly."

"Oh," Andrew muttered sadly. "Then, we better go."

"Wait a minute, Andrew, that's _Spike_."

"I know."

"You knew about Spike being alive and didn't bother to tell anyone?" Dawn shrieked.

Spike smirked as Andrew shrank back.

"Well, I didn't really think about it. I don't know."

"Ugh," Dawn muttered. "Spike, I'll talk to you later. Here. Call me on this number only. I agree. Buffy shouldn't know about you. Not yet." Dawn scribbled her cell phone number on a napkin and handed it to the righteous vamp. "Don't do anything stupid, Spike."

"I'm not goin--" he started, but she was already gone, dragging Andrew by the elbow.

"Thanks, Dawn. That was a tight spot you got me out of."

"You're welcome, Andrew. Let's get you home. I think that karaoke went to your head."

"I think you mean, alcohol, Dawn," Andrew slurred. "You're silly."

They walked a few blocks to a nondescript apartment building. Dawn pulled a key out of Andrew's pocket and unlocked the door.

"These floor is really steep!" Andrew exclaimed as he leaned on Dawn.

"That's because we're climbing stairs," Dawn managed. "Only a little bit to go."

Finally, they reached his apartment and Dawn opened the door. "Let's get you to bed, mister. You need to learn how to drink. I'm tired of doing this every weekend."

"You're tired? I have a bed. You can sleep on it, if you want."

Dawn couldn't help but laugh. Drunk people were stupid, but funny. She pushed him towards the bed and he fell backwards.

"I'm leaving. Giles needs us to be ready by 9:00 tomorrow, so I'm setting your alarm clock for 7:30."

Their old aparment didn't look much different than when they had lived there. Except it was messier now. Buffy haddecided, and Dawn agreed, to give Andrew the apartment after Giles purchased Slayer Central. Andrew had been crashing there all the time anyway. It was just easier that way.

"_Tassi_!" Dawn yelled, trying to wave a cab down. A few minutes later, she let out a scream of frustration and still had no way to get home. She zipped open her purse and pulled out her cellphone and sighed as she dialed a number.

"Hey, Dawnie. Andrew still a-pukin'?" a voice answered.

"Xander, I need you to come get--." A hand clasped around Dawn's throat as she screamed.

"Dawn? Dawn! Dawnie, are you okay?" Xander called as her cellphone dropped to the ground.

"Dawnie, eh? That's what I needed to know," a thick Italian accent said as he wrapped a burly arm around her shoulders, locking her in place.

Dawn's head flooded with memories of Buffy's lessons as instinct took over. She thrust an elbow into the vampire's stomach and he let go and stumbled backward. She had just enough time to pull a stake out of her purse. She thrust it into his heart and said to the high-speed decomposing corpse, "It's Dawn to those who don't know me. FYI." _I'm really not as good as Buffy at the puns_, she thought as she picked her cellphone up off of the ground.

"Xander?" Dawn held the stake firmly in her other hand as she checked for any other vampires. There were none.

"I'm already on my way. You're at Andrew's, right?"

"Yeah, just outside," she sighed as she pulled a cross out of her purse.

"Are you all right? I heard you screaming. Did someone hurt you?"

"Xander, I'm fine. I staked the creep. It was actually pretty cool. Just, hurry up, all right?"

"I'll be there in ten minutes. See you."

"No!" Dawn rushed. "Don't hang up. Please?"

Ten minutes later, Xander pulled up and Dawn put her cellphone away as she hopped in to plop on the front passenger seat, a common pastime.

"Sorry about this. I couldn't get a taxi."

Xander looked at her as he put the car into drive. "You don't ever need to worry about asking me for anything, all right? Ever. Deal?"

"Deal," Dawn smiled. She leaned her head against the warm and familiar seat.

"How did you get here so fast, anyway?" she asked over the mellow music filling the small car.

Xander nonchalantly scratched his ear. "I was, uh, at a friend's house nearby."

"What friend?"

"I happen to have friends besides you and those of Slayer Central, okay?"

"Uh-huh. And you also drive a sports car."

"Hey, don't knock the Crown Vic! She's been good to us so far. So I was cruising around here. I figured you'd need a ride. You're terrible at hailing a taxi other than mine."

"It's true," she laughed. "Thanks, Xand."

He smiled at her and she closed her eyes for the ride home.

A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. It's starting to pick up a bit and we're getting that fun Spike/Dawn dynamic back.

Tamara: I remain neutral in that argument, though of course I like Spike better.

Shadow of a Good Girl: Thanks! I, too, am a Spuffy fan, obviously. You'll just have to wait and see what happens with those two!

midvalley9: Thank you. There will be some more of her in the next few chapters. Can't tell you for sure when; I don't have it planned out that well!

oracle-man: Thanks.


	9. Help

As Dawn rushed past him, Spike's head felt thick from more than just the alcohol. He put the glass back on the table and threw a few euros down before leaving himself. Spike was out of the club in a heartbeat, figuratively speaking, but stopped lamely in the street.

Spike took in his surroundings. _Beautiful night_, he thought. _A great night for stalking Buffy._ Spike snorted. But that was before he had a soul when everything was different.

Now, Buffy was with another man. Spike couldn't make her love him again. But he would devote his time to exposing the Immortal and protecting Buffy from afar.

In the meantime, he roamed the streets, remembering that Illyria and Mark were at their rental and voicing his "Yecchs" at what that could mean. Maybe he would have to spring for his own place…

Not knowing how much time had passed, Spike turned a corner and heard a struggle, causing his blood to turn hot in his veins upon instinct. As he got closer, he realized it was a vampire and human. He began to quicken his pace until he was upon them and saw it was Dawn. Before he could act, Dawn had staked the vamp, looking over both shoulders for more.

"Xander, I'm fine," Spike heard her say into a cellphone. "I staked the creep. It was actually pretty cool. Just, hurry up, all right?"

Spike, in the shadows, watched Dawn with mingled pride and sadness. Things had certainly changed since he had died. Perhaps the Slayer, Little Bit, and company didn't need him so much after all.

a/n: I'm back! To make up for my epically long absence, I'm posting two chapters instead of one. Enjoy and I hope you keep reading.


	10. Coffee

Though it was dangerous, considering he only had one eye, and was driving, Xander risked a glance at Dawn in the passenger's seat. She was asleep, or at least, appeared to be. Her eyes were closed and her light brown hair fell softly across her face and chest. The lights from the Italian streets mixed with the moon to cast an angelic glow on her face.

Thankfully, traffic was light.

"Zoinks!" Xander yelled as he swerved back into his lane, narrowly missing the next car's side mirror and issuing a fury of honks.

What was he doing?

Dawn stirred beside him.

"Cat," he muttered quietly.

She yawned and looked around. Xander kept his hands firmly at the 10 and 2 position and looked straight forward.

"What's up, Xand? You look pretty focused there," Dawn laughed.

"Huh? Oh, just practicing safe driving, Dawnie. You can never be too safe, Dawnie. Especially when you have passengers in the car, Dawnie."

"Xander, first of all, I'm 18 now. No longer a little kid. Officially an adult. You can drop the –ie part all the time and just say 'Dawn' now."

Xander kept his gaze ahead.

"I'm more than Buffy's kid sister, you know," she continued. "And I don't need protecting from her, you, or anyone else."

Xander sighed. "I'm sorry—_Dawn _—these things, I know. It's just a force of habit that some monks implanted in my brain three years ago."

He could feel Dawn's glare. "Too soon?" he said softly.

Dawn smiled. "For anyone but you, yes."

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Xander said, "Hey, it's early—as in we have to report for duty in a couple hours. You want to get some coffee?"

"That…sounds great," Dawn said cheerily.

Xander pulled off the road and turned down a different street to find a 24-hour coffee shop.

They sat on opposite sides of a squishy and sticky booth and sipped in silence.

"Xander," Dawn finally said tentatively. "Can I ask you something?"

For some reason he couldn't explain, he felt his heart thud in his ears. "Sure, Dawn. Anything."

Dawn licked her lips. "Do you ever think about Anya?"

Well. Xander thought for a moment.

"I'm sorry. That was a dumb question," she started to apologize.

"Every damn day," he replied. "It's been a year and I think about her when I wake up and go to sleep."

Xander looked down at his hands encircling his coffee cup.

"Me, too," Dawn whispered. "Tara, Mom, Spike, _Buffy_—all of them. Sometimes I just can't get over that this is what my life is: watching the people I love die for no reason."

Now Dawn looked down.

Xander looked at her face that was still so young.

She should have been in college, partying, cramming for tests, doing things he didn't want to think about. She should have been socializing with people other than Andrew. She shouldn't have been in a booth in some shady diner in Italy in the middle of the night with him mourning the loss of their loved ones. She should have had a different life.

They all should have.

But Xander decided a long time ago that he wouldn't trade their daily Hellmouth for anything.

"But they did, Dawn." As he said this, he grabbed her hand and felt a shock.

Dawn looked up at him with watery eyes and smiled slightly.

"There's my girl."

Dawn wiped her eyes and cleared her throat.

"So, uh, can I just say I dusted a vamp earlier," Dawn finally said. "All on my own! I even punned!"

Xander beamed. "Buffy would be proud."

Dawn smiled.

Suddenly, they were talking about nothing and everything, Xander joking and Dawn laughing.

It fell silent again and they both looked down at Xander's hand on Dawn's. He realized belatedly his thumb had been tracing circles on hers.

Xander cleared his throat loudly as he withdrew his hand.

"Don't," Dawn breathed.

Xander thought he could feel his heart stop. A million things went through his head, none of them saying he didn't agree with Dawn. He wanted to keep his hand there, too. The connection with Dawn had been different. It was the first time he had really felt something since-.

"Dawn, you're Buffy's sister."

As soon as he said it, he regretted it.

Her eyes filled with tears again as she put on her jacket. "It's time to get back, Xander."

"Dawn. Dawn." He sighed, exasperated.

"Dawnie," he finally said in desperation.

She glared at him.

"Don't. Call me. Dawnie."

Now he'd really done it.

They rode home in silence as Xander wondered why he was always such an idiot.


	11. Found

Buffy's second day back at Slayer Central was already feeling like she had been there for weeks. She was loath to get out of bed, but the thought of all the Slayerettes at the mercy of Giles was enough for her to summon her willpower and get dressed.

As she trudged downstairs and into the kitchen, she realized something was off immediately. Though, there were indeed Buffy juniors everywhere—there always were—the house seemed empty somehow.

As Buffy was pouring herself a big bowl of cereal, the door slammed shut. She knew those angry footsteps well. Dawn.

She walked out to see what was going on and stopped dead in her tracks.

"_Xander?_"

"Duh—" he stammered as Dawn tramped off to her room.

Buffy looked at him for a moment before trailing after Dawn. "Dawn!" she called, hearing the girlish titters echo behind her.

Buffy knocked quietly on her sister's door. "Dawn? Are you OK?" before opening it softly.

Dawn was changing out of yesterday's clothes into fresh ones—a sight Buffy had never hoped to see.

"Geez, Buffy! A little privacy?" Dawn shrieked.

"Sorry," she replied, returning the door to almost closed.

"Dawn, did you and Xander—?" Buffy asked to the crack in the door.

"I don't want to talk about it," Dawn cut her off.

"OK. I'll see you downstairs when you're ready."

Buffy could only imagine how Dawn felt right now. Her curiosity at just _what had happened_ was overwhelming her. She paced back towards the kitchen where Xander still stood and shoved him against the wall, holding him at his throat.

"_What did you do?_"

"Nothing!" he choked. "Buffy…I swear. Nothing…happened. I…would never."

She looked at him for a moment then put him down.

"I believe you, but, look, whatever's going on between you two, figure it out, and keep me, and the people here, out of it," she told him sternly.

Xander swallowed and nodded.

Buffy wiped her brow. She hadn't even eaten breakfast yet and the day was already unspeakably weird.

Suddenly, her butt vibrated. She pulled her cellphone out of her back jeans pocket and checked it.

_Thinking of you_, read the text. "Sangue," she smiled. She somehow felt more energized after that.


	12. Secrets

After spending a cathartic evening the night before with Giles researching in his library, Willow crept out that morning, painfully straightening her stiff back. She was careful not to wake the still sleeping Watcher who drooled on his desk as she closed the door and looked at her watch; she had just enough time to for breakfast before she needed to be at school.

As she walked down the hallway, the "usual" was happening: girls were bustling about, play-fighting, gossiping, laughing. Willow took it in with a sense of serenity when she felt a tug on her sleeve and Dawn yanked her into her bedroom.

Willow opened her mouth but Dawn held a finger up to her lips as she closed the door.

"Dawn?" Willow whispered. "What are you doing?"

"I need to talk to you about something."

Though Willow was annoyed, probably more so than she would have been had she had a good night's sleep, she could see the worry on Dawn's face and softened.

"Of course," she said.

"Something happened last night. Between me and Xander."

"What do you mean?" Willow asked, nonplussed. Dawn just looked at her hands. "Oh. _Oh. _Oh! _What?_"

"Shh!"

"Sorry."

"Nothing like that," Dawn said. "We just were out all night talking about…everything…and…he held my hand. And it was…nice." She sighed, smiling and sinking on to her bed.

"Wait. Why were you out? Rewind. Start from the beginning. You held hands? Xander likes you? You like Xander? You held hands?"

"I guess I thought I'd gotten over my crush as I'd gotten older," she went on. "But when we came to Italy and with everything last year, it just intensified, if nothing else. We're the only ones here in the same situation, Will. And, I respect him. We're so much alike. And…he's good to me. He helps me and does anything I ask for, literally, at a beckon call."

Willow's normally sharp brain was thick and addled with confusion. She couldn't process what Dawn was saying.

"Will, I think…" Dawn began, swallowing. "I think I _love_ him. Like, really love him, not 'I'm the Key and I've been given these memories' love him or 'he's Buffy's best friend' love him. Just Xander love him."

Her eyes sparkled and she looked as shocked to be saying these words as Willow was to be hearing them. At seeing this, Willow's head cleared somewhat and she sat down on the bed next to Dawn.

"Wow, Dawnie, that's a really big deal. Did you tell him that?" she asked softly.

"No! Of course not! I mean, it doesn't matter anyway. He only sees me as Buffy's kid sister, the Key, and just this little kid that needs to be protected. He doesn't see me as my own person yet."

Willow couldn't argue with this; everyone who knew Buffy lived under her shadow a little bit, but she couldn't imagine how Dawn felt. However, she didn't say this to her lovesick friend.

"No, Dawn, I'm sure—"

"Please, don't say anything. To _him_. Or Buffy," Dawn pleaded.

Willow smiled at Dawn unhappily.

"Sure, Dawnie," she smiled, hugging her around the shoulders.

"Oh, and Willow, there's something else I need your help with, but you have to swear not to tell anyone…"

Willow nodded, raising her eyebrows expectantly. _What now?_ she thought.

"Um, Spike's kind of back from the dead."

As soon as Dawn told her everything she knew, Willow ran out the door with no time for breakfast. She caught the first taxi she saw and started praying she wouldn't be too late for class.

_One of those times it would've been nice to have stayed Jewish_, she thought wistfully.

As she ran up the two flights of stairs to her classroom, she was already 10 minutes late, her heart racing.

She thrust open the door to see Dr. Canzona sitting on the back row. _Oh God!_ she thought. She had completely forgotten the illustrious professor would be observing her class again today.

Willow stood panting in the open doorway for a moment while her students stopped talking and straightened, waiting for her to finally start class.

"Ummm…" she started, flustered. "_Mi voglia scusare_, class. I was detained with some personal issues at home. I am so sorry for the inconvenience and waste of our time. Let's begin."

Nervously, she fumbled through her bags to begin her lecture. The whole class, all she could think about was the professor's eyes and what she would say after. It was over before she knew it.

"For homework, translate chapter 7. Have a good weekend!" She began to pack her things and felt nervous as Dr. Canzona made her way to the front of the class.

"That was quite a show you put on, Ms. Rosenberg. I was in high suspense as to whether you would come. I'm glad you did."

Willow stared at the woman, startled to see her hair was half down today and falling around her shoulders in thick curls. She licked her lips and swallowed. "I'm glad I didn't disappoint you, Dr. Canzona."

"Ms. Rosenberg, I realize you must be very busy. But your job, here at school, must be of the utmost priority. Surely, whatever you were dealing with earlier was not a matter of life and death."

Willow stifled a laugh.

"Good job on your lecture today. Keep it up—and be on time. _Ciao._"

Dr. Canzona walked out leaving Willow almost weak in the knees from exhaustion and it wasn't even lunchtime yet.


	13. Signs

Spike wondered the streets the night before and had finally come up with a plan: to hit the streets again, but he would have to be careful.

As soon as the sun was down, he started roaming Italy. Spike had a sense for who was good and bad, and in his worst instinctual vampy gut, he knew the Immortal was up to no good. He just had to figure out what that no good was.

He walked miles and miles, not knowing where he was going, only listening and smelling and looking for danger.

Then he heard it: _her_.

"I still can't believe you're here! This is just such a surprise! Don't you have work?"

Spike felt cold, colder than usual.

_Buffy_, he thought, and somehow he thought he sensed her before she even spoke.

"Work is nothing," the man drawled in a thick accent. "I thought you could use a little gelato break."

"That you're right. You wouldn't believe how crazy this day has been. And it's only Monday."

The man laughed throatily.

Spike edged forward slowly, careful not to make a sound. He knew it was risky, but he had to see her, see that she was OK.

He followed them along the street until they stopped, waiting for the walk sign to let them pass. Spike hid in an alley, peering over the jutting bricks. With a pang, he saw they were holding hands.

Buffy was lit in the streetlights. Even the green and red lights made her look beautiful. Her companion was hidden in shadows, though.

Then, as the sign changed, they stepped forward together and the man kissed her lightly on the lips, resulting in a giggle from Buffy.

At that moment, Spike confirmed what he had been hoping was a vicious rumor, a horrible mistake, for this whole time. Another version of himself would have walked up to the Immortal and challenged him to a fight, or maybe Buffy herself. But instead, Spike saw her happiness and how delicately the situation had to be handled and reached into his pocket.

"Dawn. We need to meet. _Now_," he growled.

Spike tapped his fingers impatiently on the table, annoyed by the whiny bad music and blood he couldn't have. He ordered another drink when Dawn walked in followed by Willow.

"Nibblet, what is the Witch doing here? I thought this was just between us," he said quietly.

"Sorry, Spike," Dawn answered, sliding into the booth across from him. "I had to tell her. I didn't know what to do."

"Hi, Spike!" Willow said. "I'm glad you're not dead anymore. I think."

"Thanks…"

He took a swig of his drink and cleared his throat.

"Look, enough of the pleasantries. We have some business to attend to. Buffy's in trouble."

"Actually, I have some intel on that," Willow said.

Spike turned to her in surprise.

"Giles has been having me do all of this translating and research lately. It's apocalypse-y amounts of work. Stuff we haven't done since we destroyed the Hellmouth. What it comes down to is," Willow swallowed, "someone wants to destroy the Slayer, all of them, for good, starting with Buffy."


End file.
